


Murphy's Assistant

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Sometimes situations transpire with such perfect timing that events occur at the worst possible moment. (05/25/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: The above law is actually one of many laws governing many aspects of life. The law itself was born at Edwards Air Force Base in 1949. It was named after Captain Edward A. Murphy, an engineer working on the Air Force Project MX981â€”a project designed to see how much sudden deceleration a person can stand in a crash. I know this little piece of useless knowledge just deflated my whole 'mystical' approach to a story, but I had always wondered where the hell this law actually came from, and I just figured someone else might want to know as well.  


* * *

> Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
> 
> â€”Murphy's Law

Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker the III was reading the agenda displayed on his work screen. Engineering was a buzz with activity around him, but he took no notice. The captain had given him a work list nearly a mile long, and Trip was trying to decide where to begin.

Pushing a button on the screen, he scrolled down the page. He sat back and stared at the monitor, chin resting in a propped up hand. It was endless.

"Aren't you going to be late, Commander?" asked a voice beside him.

"I'm never late," replied Trip. "We'll get this done."

The crewman stared back. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"The repairs," sighed Trip. "Hold on, what are you talkin' about?"

"Aren't you supposed to meet the captain and sub-commander for dinner?"

Trip pushed his chair out, causing the crewman to jump back. "Damn," he muttered, rushing for the door.

By the time he reached the captain's private mess, dinner had already started. Trip pulled out his seat sheepishly with an apology.

"No need, Commander," smiled Captain Jonathan Archer. "I'm sure T'Pol won't mind starting over."

Trip picked up his fork. "Startin' over?"

"I detected an abnormal energy reading on internal scanners," stated T'Pol. She took a small sip of her water, placed the glass carefully back on the table. But despite her calculated moves, it tipped over. She quickly righted the glass and dabbed the liquid with a napkin. "And as I was telling the captain, it appears innocuous, but deserves further analysis."

"So how big of an abnormal reading are we talkin' 'bout here?"

The captain leaned forward, his cuff dipping into the butter dish as he reached for a bread stick. "Small. Almost inconsequential, if not for the fact that we don't know what it is," he replied, wiping his cuff. "But it appears to be consistent. Ever since T'Pol detected it, it hasn't disappeared."

"It also appears migratory," added T'Pol. "According to internal sensors, it has moved from one location to another. I first detected the anomaly in the ship's kitchen. Later, I noticed it's appearance in main engineering."

"Well, I haven't seen anything unusual in engineering. But I'll let ya know," stated Trip. He raised his fork to his mouth, bit off the morsel of chicken.  
"And as long as nothin's gone wrong, I wouldn't worry too much about it. Probably just a sensor glitch or ghost rea-"

Archer noted the halt with apprehension. "What is it, Trip?"

"What am I eatin'?" asked the commander, working his mouth around the partially chewed food.

"Chicken. Why, something wrong?"

"With ginger?" asked Trip.

Archer glanced at his own plate. "Mine does, but chef knows you're allergic to ginger."

Trip pushed the food out of his mouth into a napkin. "I think he mixed up the menus," he stated, carefully placing his napkin onto his plate.

Archer slumped his shoulders. "I thought mine tasted a little bland. Are you all right?"

Trip nodded and pushed his plate into the center of the table. "Didn't swallow any yet. I should be fine."

"In any case, you should see Doctor Phlox," offered T'Pol.

"I'll inform chef of the mistake," stated Archer. "He has complete lists of everyone's dietary needs, this is inexcusable."

"Don't be too hard on'm," sighed Trip. "They had a rough time in the kitchen today. Food emergency. A few of their fridge's broke down, they were rushing to get everything into the working one before it all went bad. He came by engineering askin' for help."

"Still..." started Archer.

"Still," reiterated T'Pol. "I believe you are nevertheless in need of an antihistamine, Commander."

Trip pushed out his seat and rose. "I guess I'll catch you guys later," he said, heading for the door. He nodded good-bye at the mantle.

* * *

After dinner, Sub-Commander T'Pol returned to her station on the bridge. The sensory glitch, as Commander Tucker had suggested, was still present, and still causing T'Pol to wonder. She had studied the anomaly for over an hour and had not come up with anything significant. It was still proving to be small, inconsequential to ship's systems, but yet especially irritating to the chief science officer.

It seemed to be moving randomly throughout the ship. It was like chasing an entity, but yet it was not. The energy reading, if it could even be called that, was more of a flickerâ€”a faint miss-fluctuation of an internal sensor reading. And it was something T'Pol could not identify, nor sequester. And it was starting to give her a headache.

A break from the bridge was needed, so she headed for the mess hall. When she entered, Archer, Doctor Phlox and the security chiefâ€”Lieutenant Malcolm Reed were sharing a table by the window. She nodded a greeting and headed for the protein resequencer. "Tea. Chamomile."

"The planet is uninhabited, Captain. So I don't think it would mind a few of it's samples extracted for the good of medicine," Phloxâ€”the Denobulan doctor, was saying. T'Pol inclined her head, partially intrigued by the conversation. "It's also a nocturnal organism, so I would prefer to harvest at night."

"You'll need a pilot," stated Archer. "I'm not sending you down there alone, uninhabited or not."

T'Pol closed her eyes, hoping the captain would not suggest her. As the chief science officer she was the most reasonable choice for a science excursion, but she had hoped to study the sensor anomaly further and did not want distractions.

"I'd be happy to volunteer," piped Malcolm. "No harm in a little security on an away mission."

"Good enough for me," said Archer. "You can leave tonight. I don't want this to be an extended lay over, so pack an overnight bag and be back tomorrow."

T'Pol relaxed, opened her eyes. She pulled her mug from the protein resequencer and noticed it was empty. Replacing the mug into the dispenser, she reiterated her order in a louder tone. She watched as nothing happened, then raised her voice further as she ordered again.

"Everything all right, T'Pol?" came Archer's voice across the room.

The Vulcan looked up. "The protein resequencer is malfunctioning," she stated. A stream of cold tea shot out from the dispenser, spraying T'Pol's uniform. She jumped back, almost dropping her mug.

"It's working now," laughed Malcolm, stifling a grin.

"I'll inform one of the engineering staff to take a look." T'Pol placed her mug on the counter and disappeared through the door without further preamble.

The stain evidently clear down the front of her brown uniform, T'Pol hoped to make it to her quarters without running into any crew members. Her hopes were quashed when Ensign Travis Mayweather, the ship's helmsman, joined her on the turbo lift.

"Good evening, Sub-Commander," smiled Travis nervously. He indicated his floor on the panel, then leaned back against the wall.

"Good evening, Ensign," replied T'Pol, stepping forward to hide the stain.

On deck five the doors whooshed open and Travis stepped out. He headed for his quarters, in a rush to complete his errand before further senior staff caught him off the bridge. He had left the helm with Ensign Jones, but he still didn't like asking these kinds of favors. He had just needed a few minutes to get a message sent home. He had been putting it off all day, and now he only had a half hour before Kira left.

Two days ago, Travis learned the love of his life had finally ended a relationship with another man. And since she was leaving for a remote science expedition tomorrow, Travis only had a short window of opportunity to let her know how he felt. In his years aboard Enterprise, he had learned to never let an opportunity pass him by. Life was fast, and if one didn't match it's speed, it could pass them by.

In his quarters, Travis pulled up his message screen and hurriedly recorded his letter as he paced the small compartment. The computer caught and automatically fixed his grammatical mistakes as he rushed to get his thoughts and feelings out. When he was satisfied with the results, he addressed the letter and sent it out. He sat down at his desk, dropped his head into his hands. It hadn't been the kind of letter one rushed, but at least Travis had done itâ€”he had told Kira how he'd felt since he'd met her.

Sappy and most likely saccharine laced, Travis had professed his love for Kiraâ€”his Starfleet crush of several years. Now all he had to do was wait for the reply. It would be an anxious filled few hours, but at least he could keep himself occupied with work. He rose from his desk and headed back to the bridge.

* * *

In a fresh uniform, T'Pol sat at her station on the bridge studying the readouts concerning the planet below. Into the tricorders beside her, she downloaded specific coordinates for Dr. Phlox and Lieutenant Reed to follow. She also added whatever information she could find from the Vulcan database.

She lifted her head when the turbo lift doors opened. T'Pol watched Travis retake his seat at the helm then turned to her console facing the center of the bridge. "Captain, the internal sensor anomaly has moved again," she informed, glancing at the progress of the mysterious energy reading.

"Where is it now?" asked the captain. "And more importantly, is there any concern for worry?"

"The energy anomaly is on the bridge," she replied. "I have run several diagnostics, but I have yet to determine what we are dealing withâ€”other than a smiple annoyance."

The captain swiveled his chair to face her. "Maybe Trip was right. Could it be just a sensor glitch?"

"Perhaps, but I'd rather find a definitive answer, Captain."

"I knew you would, T'Pol," he smiled. "This seems right up your alley."

Archer left the Vulcan to her own devices and turned to address his chief of security. "Malcolm, you and the doctor ready to go? The shuttlepod's prepped and a'waitin'."

Lieutenant Reed rose eagerly from his console. He crossed the bridge and picked up the tricorders T'Pol had prepared. "If you could notify the doctor to meet me in the shuttle bay, I'd greatly appreciate it," he said.

"Will do," replied Archer. He made the notification, then rose to join Malcolm at the lift.

Malcolm smiled and looked at his feet. "All due respect, sir. But you don't have to see us off. As much as I appreciate the gesture, it's not entirely warranted."

Archer patted the lieutenant on the shoulder. "As much as I'd like to see you guys off, I agree. You're big boys now, I think you can handle this on your own. I was actually on my way to my quarters."

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably beside his captain. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to presume-"

"It's quite all right, Malcolm." Archer leaned close to his security chief and whispered. "It's not that big of a deal." Then he leaned back, puffed out his chest proudly. "I've actually got a little homework to do. Starfleet's asked me to write a short lesson on the crab nebula for an introductory astrophysics class."

Reed bowed his head impressed. "Sounds like an honour, sir."

"It sounds like a lot of work," laughed Archer, stepping onto the arriving lift. He stepped aside to let Malcolm on, then keyed their desired floors. "And it's due tomorrow, so I'm thinking I should probably get started on it right away."

"Yes, I would have to agree with that," replied Malcolm. "And good luck."

* * *

With a full moon hanging in the night sky, the planet was not completely dark. It was reminiscent of a black and white photographâ€”a monochromatic Arizona desert. Rocky, sedimentary mountains peppered the sandy terrain, their cliffs layered and most likely millennia years old. Between the mountains, and scattered nondiscriminately throughout the sand were shrub like protrusions, prickly and teeming with troponinâ€”a commodity highly desired by doctor Phlox.

The Denobulan turned on the overhead light attached to his rucksack and bent over one of the shrubs. "Excellent specimen," he cheered, running his tricorder across the plant.

Lieutenant Reed swept his light across the horizon, bringing to view their surroundings. The once grey visage turned a lighter shade of grey. A colourful planet it was not. ""Well, you can start gathering your samples, doctor. I'm going to set up camp." He glanced over his shoulder and spotted flat ground. "Over there looks good," he said, throwing his pack to the ground.

But Phlox was too eager and consumed in his finding to spare the lieutenant a glance. He rifled through his own pack, searching for the correct sample vials. After a moment, his quiet search started to resemble a full out frenzy.  
Packages, rations and extra clothing came flying out of his pack without rhyme or reason. "I could have sworn I packed them," he mumbled, tossing a canteen over his head.

Malcolm looked up from his unrolled sleeping bag with a frown. The doctor was making a mess. "You know, doctor. There's a much more suitable way of looking for something besides randomly discarding things, especially in light disciplined situations."

Malcolm strolled over to the mess and began collecting the neglected items, then he lined them up beside the doctor's pack. "If you remove items one by one, and line them up beside you, you can repack much more efficiently."

Phlox turned to look at him, frustration evident on his speckled features. "I can't find my liquid vials," he said. "I know I packed them."

Malcolm studied a container in his hand. "Is this not what you're looking for?"

Phlox shook his head, reached for the container and tossed it back into his rucksack. "Those are for solid collection," he replied irritably.

"Well, I'm sure you can make do," said Malcolm, returning to the unfinished shelter.

"I can alter the state of the samples," suggested Phlox with a sigh. "But I had hoped not to, it changes the properties of the troponinâ€”although only slightly when reverted back to it's original state. But it does lose some of it's purity in the process."

"Well, the captain only gave us one night, so I suggest you do the best you can."

A short while later, Malcolm had completed the shelter and fire while Phlox had set up his on-site laboratory. Malcolm glanced around, his hands on his hips. They still had several more hours before designated departure, and there really wasn't much for him to do nowâ€”except wait for the doctor to finish.

Beside him the mountains spread out across his field of view. They were majestic, and begging to be explored. Chewing his bottom lip, he regretted not asking the commander to join him and the doctor. Trip would have loved an evening of mountaineering, especially followed by a night along side a roaring fire.

Making a quick decision, Malcolm picked up his tricorder and communicator, placed them in his pocket. "Doctor," he called across the camp site. "I'm going to do a little exploring. I won't be far, and probably no longer than an hour or so."

Phlox didn't even bother looking up from his work. "Just make sure to stay within communicator range," he muttered.

Malcolm shrugged and picked up a ration and flashlight, adding it to his supplies. He turned right and headed toward the mountains, an invigorated bounce in his step.

* * *

T'Pol looked up from her station when she noticed Archer enter from the aft turbo lift. "The anomaly has disappeared," she announced, causing the captain to pause mid-step.

He looked up from his PADD. "Well, that's good to hear," he said with a smile. "Wait. None of my crew members disappeared with this anomaly, did they?"

The Vulcan arched an eyebrow. "The crew is present and accounted for," she replied. "Except for Lieutenant Reed and Doctor Phlox who are currently down on the planet."

The captain took a few more steps toward his ready room, then turned back. "Have they checked in yet?"

T'Pol shook her head, opening a communications channel in anticipation of her captain's next order. "I will hail them now if you like?"

Archer nodded. "I'll be in my ready room," he said, then ascended down the stairs into his private abode.

T'Pol keyed the external com and raised the away team.

* * *

Malcolm opened his eyes slowly, not sure if he truly wanted to see what was above him. Laying at the bottom of a shallow groove, the lieutenant grimaced and rolled onto his knees. His flashlight had turned off during his quick ascent, and he was pretty sure his tricorder had met an even greater demise.

He leaned carefully over the edge of his safety zone, peering down into the depths of a cavern he had missed by mere inches. "Damn it," he hissed, closing his eyes again. He turned his flashlight back on, giving it a shake to kick it back into action. It flickered, then faded out.

Malcolm sat back, leaning against the rough gravel. After a moment, he pushed himself up and climbed the waist high embankment he had previously, and accidentally, slipped down.

His tricorder was gone, and his flashlight was dead, but he still had his communicator. Malcolm searched his body for the latter, hoping by some miracle it survived the damage of being crushed under a seventy kilogram man. He pulled it out and rushed to check it's operational status. "Lieutenant Reed to Doctor Phlox," he called into the speaker.

There was a moments pause before his hail was answered. "Phlox here."

Malcolm sighed a relief, closed his eyes briefly. "Thank god you're working," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," came back Phlox's confused voice. "But what made you suggest I wouldn't be working?'

Malcolm frowned. "Not you, the tricorder," he said irritably. "I had a little accident, and I thought perhaps I'd broken the communicator."

"Are you all right?" asked Phlox in a concerned voice. "Nothing serious I hope?"

"Only a short fall," replied Malcolm. "But it was close enough to a large canyon that I saw my life flash before meâ€”and I must say, I wasn't all that impressed."

"Perhaps you should return to base."

Malcolm swallowed hard. "I'm afraid that's not as easy as it sounds." He paused, building the courage to voice the next problem. "Like I said, I fell beside a rather large canyon. I saved myself from oblivion, but neglected to save my tricorder. Without it, I have no map, no means of oriented navigation and more to the point, no way to know how far I've traveled. And with my flashlight inoperable, I can't even follow my own tracks."

"Well, that does present a problem," replied Phlox. "But you're the great military leader, what do you propose we do?"

Malcolm dropped his communicator to his side, scratched his head. He took a deep breath and brought the communicator back up to his mouth. "This may sound silly, but can you scream for me?"

"I don't see what help that will do, but if you wish."

Malcolm gripped the communicator tightly. "I can follow your voice back," he replied in a clipped voice. "It will allow me to orient myself with your position."

Again there was a pause, then a loud screeching, ear splitting noise belted out from Malcolm's communicator. He dropped it to the ground, covering his ears. When he picked it up again, he tried his hardest to contain his frustration. "Not into the communicator," he said between clenched teeth. "I want to locate you, not this!" he cried, shaking the device in frustration.

"Sorry."

Malcolm dropped his head, took a few seconds to calm his nerves. "All right, scream now. And not into the communicator, please."

"I just did."

Malcolm slumped his shoulders, having never heard the sound. "Great. That's what I was afraid ofâ€”you're out of ear shot. Which means I've got a long walk ahead of me. And without a map."

"I'd get started if I were you," replied Phlox. "I suspect by the time you arrive here I will be done collecting my samples. Not having the proper vials, this is proving to be a very arduous task. I would be remiss if I didn't find bad luck..."

"All due respect, doctor," Malcolm said into the communicator. "But I really don't want to hear about your bad luck right now. I'll contact you every five minutes with a progress report. Reed out."

The lieutenant closed his communicator with sharp click. Noting that his surroundings appeared only vaguely familiar, he headed in what he presumed was west. Previously having the tricorder meant he didn't have to be completely aware of his travelings, but he also knew acquainting yourself on ingress was part of Starfleet's basic survival training.

Malcolm cursed himself and picked up his pace. After a moment his communicator chirped. He flipped it open. "I said I would contact you in five minutes!" he said into the device.

"Lieutenant Reed," came back T'Pol's voice.

Malcolm cringed. "Sorry, Sub-Commander. I thought you were the doctor."

"Is everything all right?"

With a large lump in his throat, Malcolm explainedâ€”in complete embarrassment, his ordeal with the shallow groove, the deep canyon, and the displaced tricorder. "Have you any suggestions?" he finished in a clipped tone.

After a moment, T'Pol's voice came back over the communicator. "Hold your position, Lieutenant. Crewman Jeffries can lock onto your communicator. He will use the transporter and beam you back onboard, then we'll send you back to the doctor's location."

Malcolm closed his eyes, furrowed his brow. The transporter was the last thing he wanted to use, especially in light of the luck he'd been having since arriving on the planet. "Very well," he resigned with a sigh. "Holding position."

It took only a minute for his molecules to shimmer into existence on the transporter platform onboard Enterprise. Once there, Crewman Jeffries passed him a new tricorder and a message from T'Pol concerning not loosing this one, then beamed him back to the planet.

The crewman left the transporter area to return to engineering with a shake of his head. "It would have been a lot simpler to just beam the lost tricorder back to him..."

* * *

Sub-Commander T'Pol surveyed the transfer from her station on the bridge. Satisfied with the outcome, she turned back to her other duties. On the screen appeared a slight flickering. Her eyes were drawn to internal sensorsâ€”the earlier anomaly had reappeared.

She ran a diagnostic, but the results came back nominal.

* * *

It had been a long night in engineering. Equipment had gone missing. People had been late. And several of the lesser significant mechanisms had either gone off line, or broken down entirely. Commander Tucker was not gong to be a happy camper when he arrived.

And Crewman Jeffries was more than glad to be going off shift. All he had left to do was refit the geothermal conduits and he could leave. The crewman pulled the conduit from its casing, inadvertently spilling conduit gel onto the catwalk. In a huff, he quickly looked around for something to clean up the spill. Resigning to having to go down to the next level for the cleaning supplies, he headed for the elevator.

Stepping off the lift was Commander Tuckerâ€”all wide eyed and ready to begin the morning shift. The crewman explained the mess and told the commander he'd be right back.

But Trip wanted to check the situation none-the-less. He crossed the catwalk, keeping a watchful eye out for the spill. Underneath the geothermal conduit was a slippery goo, dripping slowly between the metal rungs of the floor. Mindful of it's jeopardous consequences, he reached over to shunt the current running through the conduit.

But when his hand gripped the console a flash of electricity shot out, burning gel oozed out over the conduit and casings. The commander jumped back, saving himself from injury, but accidentally stepping into the slippery mess on the floor.

Unable to keep his balance, Trip flew himself forward; his right hand reaching out to control his plummet to the hard floor. But it happened all too quickly. He grabbed the conduit by mistake, burning the palm of his hand. "Son of a bitch!" he cried, grabbing his wrist with his left hand to cut off the circulation.

* * *

In sickbay, Trip was missing doctor Phlox's presenceâ€”or more pointedly, his expertise. Ensign Cutler was doing her best to bandage the wound, which wasn't difficult for a medic, but it also wasn't definitive treatment for a burn as excessive as the commanders.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked apprehensively.

Trip grimaced, but tried to hold back any further displays of discomfort. "A little."

"Did you give him anything for the pain?" asked Archer, standing beside the diagnostic table.

Ensign Cutler nodded, then reached for a hypospray. "I can administer two more doses, but after that I need a doctor's authorization."

Trip looked at her with understanding. "It's all right, Ensign. I'll live. But can ya tell if there's gonna be any permanent damage? I kinda like my hand the way it isâ€”especially after finally gettin' it back from that cloaking mishaps."

Cutler smiled. "I'm afraid it's going to need a dermal regenerator," she said, sharing a glance with the captain. "And Phlox is the only one capable of doing that..."

"And he's still on the planet," finished Archer with a sigh. He looked at his chief engineer, concern not that well hidden on his features. "At the fastest he'll be back in a few hours. Do you think you can hold out till then?"

Trip let out a deep breath, tried to move his fingers under the constricting, saline soaked bandage. "I guess I'll have to, Cap'n."

Archer patted him on the shoulder, confident his engineer would die trying rather than give into the pain and discomfort. "In the mean time, I can keep you company. That lesson I promised Starfleet is due in just over an hour, maybe you can listen and give me your impressions?"

Trip slumped his shoulders. An astrophysics lessons wasn't exactly his idea of good company. But although Jonathon Archer was his best friend, he was also his captain. Trip leaned back on the bed, rested his head. "Go ahead. I'm all ears."

Archer beamed, reaching for the cargo pocket on his uniform. Finding it empty, he searched his other oneâ€”then his sleeve pockets and finally the ones on his chest. Anxiety clawing at him, he stared back at the reclining engineer. "I can't find it," he breathed.

The captain spun around, looking for the missing PADD at his feet. Then he trailed his eyes back to the door. "Oh, this isn't good," he said, his feet following the path his eyes had laid out. He continued out into the hall and further down the corridor, eyes searching the ground, his hands rechecking his pockets.

And Commander Tucker closed his eyes, relieved that at least he didn't have to go through that.

* * *

The bridge was quiet. Travis was at the helm, keeping the ship in a steady orbit above the planet, Hoshi Sato was reorganizing her linguistic database, while T'Pol was hunched over her hooded view screen following the internal sensor anomaly.

The Vulcan sat up, stretched her neck and turned to her console facing the bridge. She pulled up the diagnostic screen and ran a test. It was working fine. So why it couldn't detect the sensor anomaly was beyond her. Trip had already run a diagnostic of the diagnostic programs and had found nothing wrong, so T'Pol was starting to believe that maybe the anomaly was nothing more than a ghost readingâ€”a sensor glitch that would fix itself.

It had already fixed itself once, if only for a few hours last night. But it had returned, and had already migrated to several places according to the internal scanning network. She had noticed it in engineering a short while ago. And she had noticed it in sickbay. But right now, she was noticing it approach the bridge.

Whoosh.

The turbo lift doors opened, and if T'Pol weren't the stoic Vulcan that she was, she would have jumped out of her seat. But instead she just raised her eyes and watched a hurried Archer step down onto the main section of the bridge.

"Has anyone seen my PADD?" he asked, looking about the bridge, hands braced on his hips. "It's small, square...has my lesson for Starfleet in it?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "I'm familiar with what a PADD looks like," she said. "But I haven't seen any unattended in here. And none with an astrophysics lesson in it."

Archer threw his arms in the air, dropped down into his seat. "I've looked everywhere and I can't find it! It's due in under an hour now and I have no back up." He paused, lowered his chin into a propped up hand. "I can't believe my luck. The one time I don't do a back up and I lose it. I never loose things."

Travis turned from the helm, his eyes wide like saucers. "Not to belittle your problem, sir. But if you want bad luck, I've got a doozey for ya."

Archer lifted his eyes, hoping that maybe hearing about someone else's problems might make his seem less catastrophic. "Out with it, Ensign. But two extra days shore leave says it's not worse than mine."

Travis swiveled his chair further to face the center of the bridge. "I sent this letter to a friend of mine the other day. A rather personal, heart felt letter. And apparently the computer mistook the name Kira for Mira and sent it to the wrong person."

Archer lifted his head, dropped his hand into his lap. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Travis. But I think I win."

Travis spread his arms, raised his brows till they almost touched his hair line. "You don't understand, Captain. I professed my love to Kira. I broke up with Mira because she was an all consuming girlfriend, if you know what I mean. A day never went by where she didn't call me up every six hours. And even worse, Mira replied back professing her undying love for me, and can't wait for me to return to Earth."

Archer cringed. "Okay, we'll call it a tie. But I have a feeling Trip might have a winning chance in this contest as well."

T'Pol looked up from her console. Something was both coming together and falling apart at the same time. She couldn't put her finger on it, she couldn't wrap her Vulcan mind around the enigmaâ€”but somehow, she felt an answer coming. To what question, she wasn't quite sure yet. "May I ask what happened to Commander Tucker?"

Archer spun to look at her, a grim look on his face. "He just had an accident down in engineering. Without giving you the gruesome details, his hand was pretty burned. And from the looks of it, pretty painful. And with doctor Phlox not back yet, he has to wait it out. Now there's bad luck. Having an accident when your only ship's doctor's not on board."

T'Pol inclined her head, sat up straighter in her chair. "I'm sure you are aware that Vulcan's do not believe in luck, good or bad. But with the history of recent events, one might consider an illogical explanation is logical." She paused, pulled up a schematic of the sensor anomaly's path she had been tracking the last two days. "Although I can not be certain, but I think your 'bad luck' has been moving from crew member to crew member."

The captain stood, stepped closer to her console. "How's that? Have you come across something I should be aware of?"

T'Pol sat back, letting the captain peer over her station to see her monitor. She pointed to the timeline she had created, and matched it with the occurrences of bad luck noted by the crew. "The anomaly disappeared from our internal sensors for a short while last night, but returned later when Lieutenant Reed was briefly transported back on board."

Archer raised his eyes. "Transported back on board? Why wasn't I notified?"

T'Pol cleared her throat. "I was going to let the lieutenant fill you in during his away team briefing, but yes there was a problem last night. But I assure you, it was rectified and no further dilemmas have occurred."

Archer stepped back, turned away, then glanced over his shoulder at the Vulcan.  
"What else? I've got this sneaking suspicion there's more."

"I've been tracking the internal sensor anomaly, and although I believed it to be benign at first, I'm not so certain now. According to the time line I attached to the sensor readings last night, each occurrence of bad luck has occurred when the anomaly was present in that room or section of the ship. I believe it even had something to do with my mishaps with the protein resequencer in the mess hall."

Archer crossed his arms over his chest. "And Malcolm and Phlox? This anomaly traveled with them down to the planet?"

"Perhaps," replied T'Pol. "I further speculate that it returned with the lieutenant in the matter stream. After all, it does appear to be some sort of energy. If even that. No diagnostics have identified it. No internal scans have shown the presence of any aliens. And aside from a migrating flicker on the internal sensors, nothing else has presented itself."

Archer did not like the sound of this. "Where is it now?" he asked, his anger pushing away his frustrations. "Can you locate it?"

T'Pol pushed a few buttons on her console, then looked up expectantly. "It appears to have left again, Captain. I'm seeing no signs of any sensor anomalies."

Archer retook his seat, crossed his legs with defiance. "Good. Let's hope it stays that way." He turned to his science officer, a scowl more predominant than he intended. "And let me know it is shows up again," he ordered.

From the front helm position, Travis cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt, Captain. But the away team in docking in launch bay one." He turned to face Archer. "Would you like me to send the doctor to sick bay right away?"

Archer nodded, glad someone was going to have their string of bad luck come to a conclusion. He closed his eyes, remembering when he had first heard of the sensor anomaly. It had been back in his private dining quarters. Trip had been late, and T'Pol had mentioned something about noticing the anomalies presence in engineering. It had also been in the kitchen prior to that. He shook his head. It couldn't be related. A sensory glitch could not cause all the mishaps and accidents that had occurred the past few days. It was preposterous. But it didn't matter anymore. It was gone. Hopefully for good.

Archer leaned forward, steadying his hands on his thighs to push off his seat. He paused, noticed a small, familiar object under his seat. He reached for the PADD and turned it on. Displayed across the page was his astrophysics lesson.

* * *

On a plain not traveled by mortals, a flickering light came into it's full brilliance. It crossed the translucent floor without walking, or without gliding. It merely traveled on it's pure will to be somewhere else. Before it, and shinning even more brilliant, was a larger presence. Larger than life to be exact.

"You have done well," said the larger presence, it's shimmering light pulsating with each non-spoken word. It didn't actually speak. The two forms communicated on a much higher levelâ€”even higher than telepathy, but understandable to all forms of life.

"You are an excellent tutor," replied the smaller form. "Your example is one I wish to emulate to it's perfection."

The larger form glowed brightly for an instant, then shimmered back to it's natural state of luminescence. "Your timing was impeccable onboard that ship. You even used your ability to jump from mortal to mortal with style and elegance. And how you employed the transporter beam to return, well, that's cause for celebration." The entity stopped, then moved closer to the lesser being.

"There are just too many species for me to concentrate on nowadays," he continued. "I shant say I was eager for an assistance, but alas, one was duly needed. But I'm afraid that's all you'll ever be...my assistant. Condemned to mere mortal jumping and minor occurrences."

The smaller form shifted, almost like a bow of reverence. "I understand. And I am obliged to be your assistant for eternity. I'm aware of my limitations. And even though I won't ever have powers quite as ostentatious as yours, I accept that I'll never be able to create the perfect catastrophe, or time the most inopportune moment for an accident. But still, I am grateful to be in your presence."

"Eternity. Yes. I'm afraid that's how long it will be. You see, if Iâ€”Murphy, the creator of mishap, the law that underlies every universe that exists, were to die...that would be too ironic."

The lesser form bowed further. "Yes it would," it said. Then it rose to it's full form, a flickering light of brilliance. "I am eager to begin my next assignment. Where will you be sending me next?"


End file.
